“Mrs. Tufto, bad as she may be, is nothing to Lady Blazer,” continued Mrs. Leach, impressively. “She has a nursery full of girls, and yet, what _do_ you think? When she was asked the other day to subscribe to the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, she said, ‘Delighted! There is only one species of animal I loathe, and that’s a _child_.’” “Oh, I say--come! I don’t believe that,” cried Mr. West, “of any woman--or even a man. I’m rather partial to _nice_ small children myself.” “Mr. Wynne,” said Lady Rachel, turning on him suddenly, “why are you so silent? You know it is your _métier_ to talk.” “Then why do you grudge me a well-earned holiday?” he asked imperturbably. “I believe you are studying us for your next sketch; taking us in your literary kodak.” “No, indeed! I am not a reporter for a society paper.” “Oh, I don’t mean about our dresses and hats, or that; I mean character sketches.” “How I should like to sit to you for _mine_!” said Mrs. Veryphast, vivaciously, moving her chair an inch or two nearer to his. “I _do_ wish you would make a study of me, and put me in one of your charming stories or dialogues.” “It would have a fabulous circulation if _you_ were the heroine,” said Lord Montycute, with a bow. Mrs. Veryphast smiled, well pleased. She was not always able to distinguish between impertinence and flattery. Mrs. Veryphast was evidently anxious to annex another ladies’ friend, who had edged himself so far away that he was quite an outsider. But he would not be appropriated, neither could he effect his escape. “Mr. Wynne,” said Lady Rachel, briskly, “you are up in all the principal subjects of the day. Do tell us what you think of the new woman.” “That she will be an old woman in a few years.” “So shall I. You are meanly evading the question.” “I think----Let me think again.” “You mean, let me _dream_ again. You seem to be half asleep this afternoon. Well?” “On reflection, I consider that she is a devastating social influence.” “That can be read in two ways, you wary fox. What is your opinion of the emancipation of women--wives especially?” “Upon my word! Lady Rachel, I must protest!” he answered, with a somewhat fixed smile. “You are endeavouring to obtain my opinion gratis. I cannot afford it. How am I to live?” Meanwhile Madeline, looking rather pale, listened furtively to this passage of arms. “I think you are _too_ horrid. At any-rate, it cannot hurt your pocket to tell me if you approve of the higher education of my sex.” “No; I prefer the ancient Greek mode--complete isolation, wool-spinning, and no books.” “Gracious! I shall pity your _wife_.” His eyes and Madeline’s met for one half-second all the way across Lady Rachel’s bonnet and Captain Vansittart’s broad shoulders. Then he stood up. “What--going? Oh, Mr. Wynne!” protested his captor, with a little scream.